Will goes to the therapist
by KaNeWHoRe2389
Summary: Will is forced to go to a massage therapist by Jack. Jack recommends a therapist by the name of Hannibal Lecter and Jack swears by him. Will reluctantly sets up an appointment, but when he gets there, it does not go the way he planned. At all.
1. A hunch over lunch

Title: Touch

Summary: Will goes to a masseuse.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hannibal or Will or anything in relation to NBC or the show Hannibal. When I die this will be one of my greatest regrets. Seriously.

Author's Note: This is written as a prompt fill over on dreadmwidth and the Hannibal Kink Meme. Will goes to Hannibal, who is a masseuse, and in this story Hannibal is NOT a serial killer but he is a bastard. He loves screwing with the heads of the people around him, especially his clients.

Anyway, hope you enjoy the story!

Professor Will Graham's attention was supposed to be on the stack of research papers his 9:00 class had handed in an hour ago. This was simply not the case. A migraine, whose starting point had been beneath the stretched, waxy patch of skin of his forehead, had spread to both temples and was sending out jack in the form of reassuring indications of stopping anytime soon. The bright light of his office aggravated his headache like sunlight shining off of too much snow.

Upon completion of his class, he had entered his office at precisely 10:45 swiftly and mulishly closing the door behind him, not wanting any student or faculty member to mistake an open door as an invitation of any kind (not that they would, they knew better but why take the chance?). At 10:50 he pulled out from his brown and beaten messenger bag the first paper. It was by a student named Lilly Samuelson. He did not know that of course. He rarely spared the name at the top a cursory glance because why should he? All that mattered was content.

Ms. Samuelson or in Will's mind student x received high marks and then it was onto the next paper. The next hour and a half was anything but tolerant and he was not sure this did not reflect in his grading. He knew he should take a break but a stubborn streak and the fact he wanted to put a dent in the considerable amount of paperwork he had been neglecting over the last few days due to, what else Jack and his never ending pursuit of chin wags, effectively flushed a well-deserved break down the shitter.

That thought caused him to clutch the red ballpoint in his hand a little tighter than was necessary. He knew Jack was just doing his job, and it was a damned important job no argument from Will. However, that did not sooth the resentment he sometimes felt against the older man. Will was finding it harder and harder to bring himself back from the places Jack led him into, and if he was being honest, the places it felt like Jack _left_ him in. Was that unfair? He did try to help Will by trying to talk to him about the cases afterwards but Will could not bring himself to do so.

The need to wash those cases off of him as soon as he could was pulsing at the end of every case. Did it go that smoothly? Fuck No. His dreams were proof enough of that. Dreams (not nightmares, he refused to call them nightmares) took root in his sleep every night. Blood forming long red rivers and images of him choking the life out of some poor faceless, screaming girl played in a constant loop whenever he shut his eyes for more than an hour.

This was starting to really show in his face and body, especially his body. Will could care less about the blue and purple bags under his eyes. It was the rest of him that was taking the brunt of his cocked up sleeping schedule. The nightly thrashing and straining resulted in sore, aching muscles the next morning, not to mention a foul mood. He did try to not take it out on his coworkers and students, and for the most part succeeded. Not that succeeding made much difference even. Students and faculty alike tended to give him a wide berth, save for Crawford and Bloom (although if it were feasible, he wishes Jack would join the aforementioned group just for a few days).

He should have known Jack would not do that, either out of duties to the job or, hell maybe even spite at this point. He looked up from grading when his office door opened to reveal…oh for fuck's sake. _What does he want now? _The vehemence of that statement was not hidden in his expression and Jack picked up on it easily.

"Relax, Will I'm not here about a case".

_Well wonders never cease, _Will thought waspishly.

"It's close to lunch and I wanted to run an idea by you."

_Is that a request, Jack?_

"I wasn't planning on taking a lunch break".

Jack leaned against the door frame, having not fully entered the room, something Will was rudely grateful for.

"I think it's an idea you will like, Will."

*_snort* Uh-huh\_

Against his better judgment, Will mentally decided if Jack was oh so graciously extending a break to Will, who was he to turn it down? Besides, Will's curiosity had been peaked. At 12:15 on the dot, Will retrieved his coat from the back of his chair and left with Jack to the academy's cafeteria, specifically the two-person table near the back of the cafeteria which Jack knew Will favored.

_So far so good, Jack kudos._


	2. P Bateman, boiling points, missed calls

Chapter Two: Will goes to a therapist

Jack was busy filling his plate with cafeteria food and Will was sat at their table, trying to convince himself the orange juice he was drinking was not in fact liquefied sawdust with orange coloring added in. It wasn't working but he continued to choke down the orange substance. He finished the last drops as Jack seated himself in the seat across from him.

The older man's plate was an unappealing assortment of squash, peas, two buttered rolls, mushy orange lumps which were supposed to be cooked carrots and a pink salad Will could not identify. And he thought he had been brave in finishing his orange juice. Jack was a much braver man, or he was just hungry. The academy's food was well-known on campus, and not for good reasons.

Will did not want to appear rude but he was becoming impatient waiting for Jack to voice his suggestion. He would have to wait however because as soon as Jack sat down, he started in on the squash and buttered rolls. Shaking his head with slight amusement he kindly decided to let the man sate his immediate hunger. Jack had finished off the squash, rolls and carrots when Will decided to speak up.

Nervously bouncing a knee underneath the table, Will asked, "Jack, what is this great idea you mentioned in my office?"

The corners of Jack's mouth formed a small smirk as he wiped his mouth with the corner of his napkin. He knew he had caught the profiler's interest at least a little bit, or Will would not have agreed to accompany him at all.

"I know this is a stupid question before I ask it, but have you ever been to a masseuse?"

Will only blinked at him.

"Well?"

Will shook his head and paused again. _Why_ was Jack asking him about masseuses?

"Jack, I don't make eye contact if I can avoid it. What makes you think I would let someone touch my naked back when I can't see them?"

Jack sat back in his seat, plate empty and started to explain.

"There is a massage therapist I go to and let me tell you, he knows his stuff. I see him after our tougher cases and I always feel better afterwards. If he helps me, I was thinking he has to be able to help you."

Will didn't believe him. He could not see a favorable outcome for him or the masseuse. The only scenarios he saw were him not being receptive to the touching, the masseuse getting frustrated and asking him to leave (and never come back).

Will told Jack as much but Jack persisted.

"Will, give the guy a chance. He is good and you need to find a way to unwind. For god's sake I saw one of your students crying outside of your class the other day and when I asked her what was wrong, she showed me a paper you had graded. There wasn't an inch of that paper that was not marked in red."

Will winced and looked away. Maybe he was not managing as well as he thought.

But still, could he really relax enough to even enjoy the massage? Something like that probably cost a lot and he did not want to go if it would not help him.

Jack seemed to read his mind.

"It doesn't cost an arm and a leg Will."

Will wished Jack had phrased that differently. He really did.

Will sighed and fiddled with his empty juice glass. If Jack thought the guy was good and it wasn't too expensive, why not?

_Because_ _you flinch every time someone gets too close, _a niggling voice in the back of his head so kindly obliged.

However much Will was frustrated by Jack sometimes, this was an interesting turn of events. Maybe this was another attempt to help Will? Maybe Jack realized talking was not working, or something Will did not want to do. But a masseuse?

Despite Will's misgivings, perhaps Jack was onto something. Will ran both hands over his face and through his hair. He was getting a headache thinking about the mere possibility of a stranger touching him and he hadn't even called the guy yet. Christ.

Jack interrupted Will's inner diatribe.

"Will if you don't like him, you won't be any worse off than you are now."

Will conceded Jack that point. He was pretty much floundering already. Things could only get better.

Jack could see the doubt receding and before Will could ask, he already had a hand in his breast pocket, retrieving a small business card.

Will took the card and placed it in his pocket.

"Thanks. I'll give him a call I guess."

"That's all I. And hey, you might be pleasantly surprised."

Huffing, Will rose from his seat and with a nod exited the cafeteria much as he entered head down and shoulders tense.

**1 week later**

It was Thursday morning and Jack was sat in the back of Will's 8:00 class. His immense annoyance at Will had caused him to drown out most of the lecture but he perked up when Will stated his closing comments and the students started to pack their things.

Will was packing his books and papers into his bag but could sense Jack approaching. He had spotted the man about 20 minutes into his lecture by sheer accident but he knew exactly why he was there. The encounter he knew they were going to have was not going to be enjoyable.

Jack stalked up to Will, not caring about the other man's comfort and stood firmly in front of Will.

"Will-"he began.

"Jack I know why you're here. I apologize about snapping at you the other day."

"And what about twice the day after that?"

Will nervously looked Jack in the eye, sheepish and half begging him to drop the subject altogether. That wouldn't happen though, and he knew it. He had been out of line but he couldn't help it. His stress had hit a boiling point and those incidences were sour proof of it.

"Will, I don't mind so much you snapping at me, although I did not appreciate it. I need you to keep your temper in check if someone, like Freddie Lounds, no doubt pokes her nose into another crime scene. Remember what you said to her last time?"

Will's stomach clenched uneasily as his words in his head.

_Miss Lounds, It's not smart to piss off a guy who thinks about killing people for a living._

Jack continued.

" Will, have you called that therapist I mentioned?"

Will shook his head, not saying anything.

"Why not?"

Exasperation was injected into every syllable of that question and Will internally cringed. How could he tell Jack he had sat with the card in his hand for an hour the night Jack had given it to him?

He had sat and debated back and forth for a goddamn hour which ended in him leaving the card on his kitchen table and him going to bed, disappointed in himself and spitefully annoyed with Jack? He couldn't, so he didn't say anything.

Outwardly, Jack looked frustrated but inside he was concerned. He knew from the start that suggesting a massage therapist to Will was a stretch but he had really wanted to help the younger man.

His advice had gone unheeded and while he had not appreciated the snide remarks from Will, he was more worried about him going off on someone not directly connected to the investigation. He hated doing what he was going to do, but he felt he had little choice.

"Will, I am sorry to do this but I don't see another avenue. You are not permitted to investigate or be present at any crime scenes unless you make an appointment."

The statement echoed loudly to Will in the empty lecture hall. Jack was really going to force him to get help, to go to a therapist, to _let someone touch him_? He realized that last point was a little dramatic but he was feeling cornered.

He opened his mouth to argue but the look on Jack's face stopped him. He was going to have to go or he was going to be stuck at home with nothing to do and that had, in the past not worked out well for him.

Looking Jack in the eye for a solid four seconds, he nodded his head stiffly. Jack's shoulders relaxed slightly, relief however momentary present.

"Thank you Will. You need this."

Will gave a softer, vague nod and waited for Jack to exit the hall first, which he thankfully did. Will stood at his podium for a minute or two, trying to calm his nerves. Now that he had basically promised Jack, he knew what he was going to do that evening. Probably stare at the card again for an hour but this time he would be forced to pick up the phone.


	3. Jack's wil be done

Chapter Three - Will goes to the therapist: The Call

The late afternoon air was lifting his collar and ruffling the curls at the nape of his neck. Closing his car door, Will took his time walking up to his porch. Placing one foot in front of the other was thankfully taking him closer to his home, his sanctuary. He rested for a moment on the porch and let the barking cacophony from inside wash over him in jarring beats.

With small smile he let himself in and was promptly greeted by Winston, Joseph, Sully and Suzy. His dogs were always so happy to see him it almost baffled him. Their unconditional nature never ceased to amaze him but he was grateful all the same.

When each dog had had their turn being petted by their master they finally cleared a path for him to place his keys, jacket and bag on the kitchen counter. The unhealthy jumble of takeout containers and scattered books made Will grimace. He had resolved to clean that stuff up two months ago. Oops.

Will walked over to the kitchen table and idly rifled through the small stack of mail he had not had a change to look through that morning. Bill, bill, bill, bill…wonderful. Dropping the mail back onto the table he headed to the living room where the dogs were laid out in their self-designated areas. Marty was in Will's chair while Sheila was dozing under the coffee table. Toby's furry rear was sticking out from the bottom of his couch.

Will could only chuckle at his dogs and their different personalities. That is why he loved them so much. They all shared the common traits of a dog but they had their own quirks and fears.

Toby, for instance, did not like thunder but he loved the low hum of the TV whenever Will watched late at night. Charles, a Rottweiler mix did not like Sheila's attempts to cuddle with him when the wind was blowing too loud outside. All the same he did not snap when she tried to snuggle next to him. He just looked at Will with a put out expression which always made his master laugh.

Having sat himself on the couch, he grabbed the remote and turned on the television. Flipping channels was a nice way for Will to slowly unwrap the day from his body, instead of tearing it off like he was forced to do other days.

Settling on an old Tom and Jerry re-run, which he frankly was surprised networks still showed, he contemplated how long he could put off making that call. Looking at the clock, he swore softly. It was 5:00. If he hurried he could probably get an appointment for the next day.

Sighing, Will roused from his spot and once again entered his kitchen. He retrieved the business card from the table and then grabbed his phone. Taking a seat, he paused and skimmed the information the card offered.

The name Hannibal Lecter, in a pristine elegant font Will could not place, was followed by a contact number and address. The address was not even fifteen minutes from the academy. Well, at least it was convenient. Will dialed and waited.

"Hello, this is Hannibal Lecter massage therapist, how can I help you?"

The thick accent and soft but firm male tone caught Will by surprise for some reason. He recovered himself and spoke.

"Uh, yes my name is Will Graham and I would like to schedule an appointment."

"Very well what day and time would work best for you?"

_Never._

"Maybe tomorrow at1:00 in the afternoon?"

Will was silently praying this man's week was filled.

"That is acceptable."

_Damnit._

"Great um do I need to bring anything?"

Will wanted to kick himself, hard. What an idiotic question to ask.

A soft, polite chuckle made him feel like a bigger idiot.

"No, Agent Graham, you need bring only yourself."

"Okay, thank you Mr. Lecter. Bye."

Will hung up and two seconds later had the common sense to wonder how in the hell Mr. Lecter had known he was a federal agent.


	4. Rainy Mornings and Wooden Stories

Chapter Four:

Will's alarm clock went off at precisely 9:00 the next morning. He frowned in annoyance as some boyband invaded his ears. He normally set the alarm to a steady beep but he had been so tired last night he must have hit the radio setting. With a huff he shut the stupid thing off.

Entering his kitchen, Will took note of the steady downpour which had Toby agitated under the coffee table. Suzy, being the mother hen she was, had seated herself next to Toby and was licking his face in an attempt to comfort.

Will found it difficult to ignore the impulse of going over and comforting Toby himself. He was grateful though his dogs could take care of themselves and each other for short periods of time. His hectic schedule made it necessary.

After feeding the dogs and putting water in their bowls, Will set about brewing his coffee. While waiting, he read the newspaper. He was in the middle of Charlie Brown's weekly misstep in trusting Lucy when the coffee machine beeped.

Getting up, he poured a cup and added what Jack thought "an unhealthy and unnecessary" amount of sugar. Sugar, a lot of it, in his coffee had always been a habit of Will's and nothing was going to change that.

While enjoying the caffeine and rain, Will contemplated how he was going to spend the next few hours until his appointment. He fleetingly considered cancelling but that would serve no purpose other than aggravating Jack and lengthening his…impromptu vacation. So what should he do?

Carefully surveying his kitchen he decided to clean. The takeout containers had to go so as not to repeat the incident with Toby and the stale kung pow chicken. How Toby's little legs had gotten him up on the counter was still a mystery to Will. Maybe one of the other dogs had retrieved the food?

Pushing that thought aside, Will began cleaning. The counters were first and then the cabinets. Next, the kitchen floor received a good mopping. Will wouldn't say his kitchen sparkled but it did look much nicer and more orderly. By the time he finished, it was 11:00, still two hours until his appointment. Not wanting to meet Mr. Lecter sweating and a mess, he took a quick shower.

An hour later he was clothed, keys and jacket by the door and he was ready to go. He was also anxious. Why had he agreed to the whole idea? He couldn't back out of it now but he desperately wishes he could. A strange part of his apprehension was vanity.

What would Mr. Lecter think about his body? Will knew he was considered to be handsome, the blushing and hushed comments of female students and female faculty members a very good clue.

He supposes he was nicely built by some standards. His physique was toned from his days as a cop. His face wasn't terrible to look at although his hair was a damned lost cause. His back was nicely muscled and his rear-Will shook his head. He was being completely ridiculous. His back would be the area worked on and Mr. Lecter's job was to minimize the tension in his body, not judge his looks.

Looking at the clock, Will rolled his eyes at himself. It was 12:30 and he should leave because it was a fifteen minute drive. Bidding his dogs good-bye he hurried out the door with keys, wallet and jacket in hand.

The drive was an uneventful one and Will parked in the front row of the parking lot and turned off the ignition. Taking a deep breath he stepped out of the car and took a second to look over the establishment in front of him.

The office and the area around it were welcoming. There were thick, lush woods behind the building which gave Will a somewhat calm earthy feel. The building itself was two levels and had a dark wood paneled exterior. The upper floor jutted out over the bottom one. Large glass panes on the upper level served to bring light into the interior. The overall effect was calming at least.

However, Will began to walk toward his destination with a seesawing trepidation. A stranger was going to be touching him for an hour. He disliked physical contact in normal situations. He had no idea how to act or what to do as a client here. Nerves almost made his feet freeze but he ignored the impulse and entered the office.

A small wave of cool air washed over him and he shivered. He took a second to look at something other than the admittedly nice hardware floor and took in the room. The receptionist room was a light blue and the receptionist desk was a beautiful piece made of oak.

The woman behind the desk was young, 22 or 23 if Will had to guess. She was smiling and speaking into a receiver, her hair done in a simple bun and her attire a deep green silk blouse. Feeling he had stared long enough, Will shifted his gaze to the rest of the room.

Abstract art dotted each wall, none of the pieces too harsh or too bland. A line of 8 plush chairs were to the left of the oak desk. Taking note of the time, Will forced his feet to move and stopped in front of the young woman.

She ceased her typing and kindly smiled at him. Will wished he would smile back but the desk would be the one to receive it. He made sure to stare at the line of her jaw and spoke politely to compensate.

"Hello Sir, how can I help you?"

"Hi, my name is Will Graham and I have a one o'clock appointment".

The woman did not seem to be put off by his lack of eye contact. She understood different kinds of people came to relax. She smiled softly.

"Yes Mr. Graham Mr. Lecter is ready for you".

Will cut a glance to the clock high on the wall behind the desk and saw it was exactly 12:45. She gestured to the hallway on the left of her.

"Just go down the hall and you are in the last room on the left".

Will thanked her and rounded the right side of the desk. He slowly walked down the hall and noted the walls were painted a soft sandy shade. It complimented the blue of the previous room nicely. Will passed the rooms on either side of him quietly, not wanting to disturb other clients.

Finally, he was in front of the last room on the left. He couldn't help but wring his hands a few times. He was about to take a step forward when a soft but firm voice caught him off guard. The same one he had spoken to yesterday.

"Please come in Mr. Graham".


	5. Imposing Figures and First Names

Chapter Five: Eyes in the back of his head

Will's head jerked up at the voice. Nervousness settled in his stomach. He discreetly tried to get a glimpse through the wooden door slats but they were angled in such a way as to make it impossible. Shaking his head and strengthening his resolve, well a little bit at least, he slid the doors gently open.

Stepping inside and closing the doors behind him, Will looked around the room. Despite himself, he could appreciate its' beauty. It was kept in a low light, the creamy white walls seemingly giving off a soft glow. There was a fireplace in the far left wall but it was not lit (Will did not understand why there was a fireplace, but as he was not going to be using it he didn't mind).

A small window was above the fireplace and sunlight shone through. The massage table was in the middle of the room and there was a towel already folded neatly on its surface. The wall behind the table held multiple compartments, holding what Will guessed to be the additional accoutrements of the massage therapist.

To the left of those compartments was another door and for the second time technically third time, Will heard the voice.

"Mr. Graham, please remove your clothing to the extent with which you are comfortable, and place them in one of the compartments on the far right closest to you".

The accent was one Will could not place and it made him curious, but he did as he was told and began to remove his clothing. He decided to keep his black boxer briefs on. Climbing up onto the table, he settled the blanket so his entire upper back was exposed. The top of the blanket was aligned smoothly with the beginning of his briefs.

He was in the middle of deciding whether to pillow his hands against his cheek or lay them at his side when a door behind him and to his right open and shut. Hearing quite movements behind him, Will turned his head to look and his heart stopped.

Hannibal Lecter cut an imposing figure at 6'0 and although he was not overtly muscular, the tight chords in his arms showed definite strength, not at all surprising for a man who works with his upper body every day. He had rich, sandy colored hair which was slicked back off his forehead.

The man's face, in the quickest of glimpses Will allowed himself, revealed prominent cheekbones. Oh dear god, his lips. They were on the thinner side and on anyone else would have looked odd or out of place. However, the ripe, red lower lip looked deliciously soft to the touch. Will immediately shut off that thought and moved his gaze downwards.

While slim, the man's chest and torso was strong, the black uniform shirt he wore stretched nicely. Will really tried not to stare at the way his pants hung comfortably on his hips but he knew he did not succeed.

A throat being cleared caught his attention and Will hurriedly propped himself up on his elbows. An alternative would have been to get off the table completely as to not appear rude but much more than his upper back would be showing and not under pain of death would Will go down that route.

"Good afternoon, William. How are you doing today?"

Hannibal noticed the slight discomfort at the use of the man's full name. He wanted to smirk but kept his expression neutral.

"I am fine Mr. Lecter. I was told about you by a colleague of mine and they did not exactly give me a choice in coming here".

_You are not fine Will. You are being dishonest with me. That will not do._

It seemed Will agreed, for far different reasons than Hannibal of course. The younger man backtracked, not wanting to come off as rude.

"I just meant I am not a fan of massage therapy".

Hannibal quirkec an eyebrow. This appointment was not solely Will's idea? Interesting. It was probably that awful Jack Crawford's. Jack had let slip during a session his concern for a male colleague. A male colleague whose special gift was quite the asset for the FBI but was something else entirely for the man behind the gift.

Hannibal took this opportunity to take a few steps towards the table and more comfortably into Will's line of vision. Will could only look Hannibal in the eye for a few seconds before averting his gaze back to his interlocked hands.

"It is alright William. There is no reason to be uncomfortable here."

Hannibal knew it was common for people to feel anxious during their first session. Certain issues such as body consciousness or untapped personal space boundaries were hardly unheard of in such an intimate setting.

Taking in the smooth arching curve of Will's back, Hannibal was certainly hoping those issues resided within William. His last few months of appointments had become monotonous and left something to be desired.

He let his clients ramble on about their banal problems and frustrations, happier when they were content to keep their mouths shut during the hour and let him do his job. It is the rare opportunity that Hannibal finds someone worthy of his particular brand of amusement.

William Graham was going to participate fully in that regard, whether he wanted to or not.


	6. First Contact

Author's note: If you guys want to throw something at me, make it stale marshmallows please? They will sting slightly and I can eat them afterwards lol. I truly am sorry for the ridiculously heinous wait. My hard drive gallantly gave me the finger and I just got it fixed. We should be back on track with updates. Thank you for your reviews, kudos and patience, readers! You don't know how much I appreciate it. There are some additional notes at the end just so you know.

Chapter 6: First Contact

Hannibal turned his attention to his patient, the unending possibilities a fluid, unobtrusive loop in his mind. He glanced at the clock. The time read 1:01. That won't do.

Gazing upon William again, Hannibal stepped up to the table. Will turned his head towards Hannibal and gave a start. He had not heard the older man approach. Will braced himself for the first contact.

Hannibal's smirk was unseen by Will. His cheek was pillowed upon his hands with his head turned away. Leaning over slightly, Hannibal gently placed both thumbs against the tight band of muscles under Will's hairline at the base of his skull.

Hannibal immediately felt the tensing of the splenius capitis muscle He dug his thumbs in a firm, but gentle circular motion and spoke quietly to Will,

"I realize William this is your first massage but if I am going to succeed in reducing your aches and pains, tensing up is going to be counterproductive."

A clipped tone responded,

"I know Mr. Lecter but that's easier said than done I'm afraid."

Hannibal's lip quirked along with an eyebrow. He continued his fluid, firm circles,

"Actually, I prefer Dr. Lecter"

Will did not answer. Hannibal continued.

"I was a practicing surgeon for twelve years. Then I pursued another career path. One I find complete fulfillment in and still continue."

"And that path was?"

"Psychiatry."

Will's eyes shot open, an uncomfortable feeling burgeoning in his stomach.

Jack had neglected to mention Mr. Lecter was in fact Dr. Lecter. To say nothing of the fact that the "doctor" meant, most importantly to Will, psychiatrist.

Hannibal, whose fingertips were vertically skimming the splenius capitis, easily noted the tenseness William's body had acquired.

Hannibal did not entertain the ridiculous notion his having been a surgeon bothered William so. That left another option.

A man who cannot stand the soothing touch of a professional masseuse would most definitely not approve of a psychiatrist touching and kneading a far more valuable and potential thing: the human psyche

His William did not take kindly to psychiatrists and by extension psychiatry. Or maybe the other way around? It did not matter to Hannibal. The doctor bared his teeth in a small, feral smile. His patient was intriguing him more with each passing minute.

In deft movements Hannibal migrated his nimble fingers from the bottom of Will's hairline to the sternocleidomastoid, the sides of the neck.

Will could not help but squirm. The last few weeks had been stressful and the incredible sensitivity in just his neck was evidence enough.

Hannibal slightly chided,

"Your squirming is making this a bit of a challenge, William."

Will huffed.

"I am not used to someone doing whatever you're doing."

Hannibal frowned, slightly annoyed at the description of his knowledge and skills as "whatever he was doing."

"And what am I doing exactly, William?"

Will's brow furrowed.

_That was an odd question for a masseuse to ask._

Dr. Lecter knew what he was doing, and not just in a technical sense. He was soothing the sore muscles of his patient. That was all he was doing.

Wasn't it?

The question left Will feeling a little uncomfortable and out in the open. And speaking of another thing he was not so fond of…

He turned his head towards Hannibal for a few long seconds, eyes fixed on his folded limbs and spoke,

"Could you please call me Will or Graham? No one calls me William."

"Could you look me in the eye when you request something of me Will?"

A spiked mixture of indignation, annoyance and anger flared in Will. Up until now he had not made eye contact with the older man, not even for a few seconds. The man had to have thought there was a reason for that.

Will made to push himself up onto his forearms, to confront Dr. Lecter a little more directly but felt gentle hands pushing him back down. Will wanted to balk at the bold actions when the doctor's soft words stopped him,

"Forgive me Will. That was horribly forward and rude. I realize your Asperger's does not allow for much in the way of eye contact."

Will let himself be settled again but wondered, how had Dr. Lecter known he had Asperger's? A second later he felt like an idiot for even voicing the question silently. Twelve years as a surgeon and then however long as a psychiatrist? The symptoms would be easy to spot for an individual of his medical caliber.

Hannibal was pleased with the reaction he received. From the moment he had stepped into the room, Will's position with his back to him had allowed Hannibal ample opportunity to observe the younger male.

Will's lack of eye contact had also afforded the doctor an opportunity to study him more freely. Asperger's had been an interesting diagnosis, yet Hannibal could see the possibilities. The personal space and preferred use of a less formal moniker spoke volumes about Will's feelings about establishing close relationships to those around him.

"Stay away" was the message that was being sent loud and clear, either intentionally or unintentionally.

It was probably at best 50/50 in the life of Will Graham.

Story notes: Just to kind of reground people with this fic, here are some refresher facts about Hannibal and Will:

Hannibal is NOT a cannibal here, but he is a bastard who likes screwing with people's heads (those that interest him enough anyway),

Hannibal is not a killer either. I want the story to be less about blood and gore and more about intimidation and uncomfortableness. In a masseuse's office, opportunities for those two feelings are ripe lol

Will has Asperger's but he also has a backbone (This is not intended to be a disrespectful statement towards individuals with Asperger's or anyone else with a social anxiety disorder)

I need the cruelty of Hannibal to meet some good resistance. I know that sounds kind of disturbing but this is a fic so I figure it is okay lol

And here is a cool link  anatomy/muscular/head-neck-posterior-deep

That is what I am using for my anatomy references. I will not get much more technical than I already have but I wanted to at least be somewhat accurate and believable.

Anyways there is definitely more on the way minus the heinous 2 month wait (seriously, sorry again for that lol). Any concrit or comments are always welcomed and appreciated and I hope you enjoyed this pitiful little update. Have a wonderful day, readers!


	7. It Begins

Author's Note: Here's another update! I wanted to turn the heat up a little bit and I think this was a step in the right direction. Hannibal starts to show a different side of himself to Will. And it's not his best side, hehe. Enjoy readers!

Chapter 7: It Begins

Hannibal look up from kneading Will's lower neck and read the time: 1:13. It was time to move things along.

He moved down to the edges of Will's shoulder blades, or the infraspinatus. The reaction was immediate. A sharp intake of breathe was heard and Will's body arched itself into the table.

Hannibal stilled his hands momentarily, waiting.

Will let out an embarrassed huff.

"Sorry about that. My shoulders are always one of the sorest places on me."

_I wonder what other places you are aching, Will. What will your reaction be then? Will you arch away from me still?_

Hannibal kept the saccharine curiosity to himself for the time being.

"It is alright Will. Now we know the amount of sensitivity in that area."

Hannibal ran his thumbs along the curvature of both shoulder blades, maintaining a gentle contact between the bone and thumb pad.

Will could not help the small moans of pain that escaped him. His personal nature and his job caused an ever present tenseness in his body. Unfortunately, the tension always seemed to nestle itself in his shoulder blades and lower back.

After a few minutes of soft contact, Hannibal moved his focus from the edges of his shoulder blades to the tight muscles down the middle of the trapezius and thin strips of the teres major.

A very sharp whimper could be heard when Hannibal began working the teres major. Despite Will's groans, Hannibal worked his thumbs into the muscle.

Will turned his head toward Hannibal, careful to keep his gaze on the man's waist.

"Dr. Lecter, please not there. It's too sore."

Hannibal stilled his movements.

"Will, come now, that is precisely the reason you are here in the first place."

"_Actually_, the reason I am here is because I was railroaded into seeing you,"

Hannibal was enjoying himself immensely.

It was beginning.

However, Will's rudeness, while adding to the game, would not be dismissed.

Hannibal positioned his hands so they were bracketing Will's latissimus dorsi, a few inches below his underarms. Placing the pads of both thumbs firmly against the lowest point of the shoulder blades, Hannibal began applying a sharp pressure.

Will's eyes shot open and his arms came down to each side of him, elbows still bent, fists resting on either side of his head. An attempt to sit up resulted in an agonizing increase of pressure from the man above him.

"Dr. Lecter! What the hell are you-"

"Shhh, Will. It would be further rude of you to disturb the appointments of the other patients, would it not?"

Hannibal's fingers did not rescind their demanding pressure and Will tried to cast a glance behind him, a vain attempt to catch the emotion on Hannibal's face.


	8. Pain and Confusion

Author's Note: If Hugh and Mads did not look so hot together, I might feel guiltier about what I am putting Will through. As it is, all I can do is look at Will Graham and say "thems the breaks" lol. Yeah, horrible I know. Anywho, here is chapter eight. I feel I am spoiling you guys with all these updates, but after that horrendous wait, you guys sure as hell earned it. So here is chapter eight. Happy reading!

Chapter 8: Pain and Confusion

Will managed to catch a quick glimpse of Hannibal's features and his blood ran cold. Deep amusement in twin gleams and a thin smirk was all Will allowed himself to see. Questions raced through both hemispheres.

_Why was Dr. Lecter intentionally hurting him? _

_Whywasheholdinghimdown?_

Will again attempted in vain to surge upwards from the table. Dr. Lecter was ready for the movement.

Instead of applying more pressure to what was surely going to be bruised shoulder blades, the man swiftly gripped Will's left shoulder with his left hand and curled the palm of his right hand around Will's throat.

Muddled confusion and fear played tug of war with the impulse to struggle or freeze. The instinct to fight won out and Will began trying to wrench himself from the multiple grips Dr. Lecter had him in.

His supine position forced him to realize the definite disadvantage he had, both tactically and psychologically.

Hannibal's derisive smile was evidence of his confidence in the current situation. Will could not find any leverage, however that was not stopping the younger man's struggling in the slightest.

Securing his grip on Will's left shoulder, Hannibal switched his focus momentarily to the long, thick, smooth peach column his hand was cradling. Setting the pad of his thumb firmly against the carotid, he brought his fingers and thumb together in a firm enclosing hold.

Will wrenched his head back and forth, desperately trying to escape the uncomfortable grip. Hannibal squeezed a little harder and tears started forming in Will's eyes. The man was squeezing in such a way an irritating tickle was causing Will to want to cough.

Hannibal experimentally increased the pressure and Will did start to cough and sputter. Against his better judgment Will tried to speak,

"God d-damnit..."

"Why the f-uck are you-"

Hannibal did not permit Will to finish his ill-timed inquiry. His brash language would not be allowed to continue.

Shifting his hold on Will's throat so as not to cause coughing but merely lessen air movement, he leaned his upper body onto Will's firm back and spoke directly into Will's ear,

"Will, stop moving this instant."

The younger male with a head butt which nearly caught the tip of Hannibal's chin.

_Manners, Will. You are going to give me ample opportunity to improve yours, aren't you?_

The incessant struggling echoed one word: yes.

Drawing his lips into a thin line, Hannibal decided to change tactics.

He simultaneously moved his left hand down to the small sliver that was the internal abdominal oblique on Will's left side and dug his thumb in _hard_ while increasing yet again the hold against Will's throat.

A sharp, high breathy keen expelled itself from Will's vocal chords and his body went limp, save the shaking. Will could not seem to stop stretching his neck this way and that.

Hannibal, who had not moved his mouth away from Will's right ear, whispered a soft tone against the earlobe.

"Are you finished struggling, William?"

In such proximity, Hannibal could with ease observe Will's breathing. He was pleased to see it was quite labored.

Shuddering, deep huffs interspersed with short, heady breaths as if they were a second thought. The air was punctured by harsh whimpers and keens reminiscent of kicked dogs.

Hannibal spoke again,

"Are you going to answer me, William? Or are you going to continue to forget your manners?"

Will jaw was set as if on needles. Keeping his gaze downwards to the smooth surface of the table under him, he took three tense, measured breaths before opening his mouth,

"I will say this once Dr. Lecter. Let me go".

Will was ashamed of how his voice shook.

Hannibal smiled indulgently, his lower lip skimming the shell of Will's ear.

"No".

End notes: Hehe, I am seriously obsessed with Mads. I look at his pictures sometimes before reading fic and it's hard not to blush like crazy lol. Anyway, I sincerely hope you readers enjoyed this update, or at least did not throw things at the computer screen. Have a great morning, afternoon and evening!


	9. Threats

Chapter Nine: Threats

A sound of frustration hit the air and rippled through Will's throat.

"Why the hell are you doing this? What have I ever done to you?"

Hannibal gently ran his full lips along the line of Will's temple and jaw.

"You laid yourself upon my table, Will. You want me to ease your pain, do you not?"

_Well, yeah but this is hardly what I had in mind! And easy my pain? _

_I just wanted, well Jack wanted, me to get a massage. If you'll recall, I have reminded you twice this whole thing was not my fucking idea!_

Will opened his mouth to say just that, but Dr. Lecter spoke first,

"Will, I am afraid we are wasting time. I would like to continue uninterrupted. Are you going to allow me to do so?"

Will had an answer ready.

"What the hell do you think? I want to leave and you are not going to stop me, Dr."

Hannibal raised an eyebrow, pulling back slightly to take in Will's form

"I have already proved I am stronger than you, William. Is another demonstration needed?"

"Fuck you!" Will spat.

Maintaining his hold against Will's throat, Hannibal spoke deliberately,

"Will, there are lessons you will take from this room, whether you wish to or not."

Will huffed, trying to ignore the prickling fear and trepidation he was feeling.

_What lessons did Dr. Lecter think he was going to teach him? Yes, "think". He was not going to roll over and play dead for this man._

"Doctor, let me ask you something." Snarky tone.

To his surprise, the other man released his aching throat and side. Will's relief was short lived as the older gentleman braced his hands on either side of Will's torso.

"Very well. What is your question, William."

Will grit his teeth,

"What the fuck makes you think I won't report your actions to your secretary, the police or Jack?"

Hannibal smirked. He had been waiting for Will to ask that exact question. Smoothly lowering his body to resting once again just atop Will's back, he spoke as if discussing the weather,

"My secretary, Charlotte. Lovely woman, very polite. She is a hard working mother, also. Her son, Nathan, is 18 years old."

Hannibal paused, amused and waiting for some prompt from Will. Will hated to oblige the bastard but he wanted to get to the point.

"And?"

"The poor boy slipped in the shower a week ago and broke his arm. Charlotte, wanting a doctor she trusted to look out for her son, gave me a spare key to her three bedroom apartment."

Will wanted to throttle the man.

"Goddamnit, what is your point!"

Hannibal _tsked_ at the vulgarity but continued,

"Nathan has no other friends really, but enjoys my company quite a lot. He is also blind."

Will's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Charlotte, for all her strength in raising a handicapped son, is fragile. Her husband left because of shame and she cannot go through anymore heartache. Is that what you want to give her Will? More pain?"

Fear blossomed in Will's gut. Will turned his head towards the doctor as much as he could with the other man's form over his.

"Are you threatening Charlotte?"

"Of course not, Will."

A beat.

"I am threatening her son."

The words had barely left Hannibal's mouth when Will reared his head back and felt a satisfying thud.


	10. Two Can Play That Game

Author's Note: Holy crap another update! Only I feel kind of bad about this one because I started writing it during class. Oh well, I'll just blame it on Mads Anyway, this definitely kicks the heat up a little more and I hope you all enjoy it. And let me say just because Will decides to put up a fight does not mean things are going to turn out in his favor. Happy reading, readers!

Chapter Nine: Two Can Play That Game

A grunt was heard. Will had managed to land a hit squarely against the underside of Hannibal's jaw. The younger man swiftly hoisted his upper body off the table and prepared to turn himself on his side.

A pair of strong forearms wedged themselves against the underside of Will's armpits and even stronger hands clamped onto his shoulders. The hands pulled in a firm downwards motion, again anchoring Will to the table.

Will was mentally scrambling for his next bright idea when a sharp pain flared in the back of his neck. Confusion made him pause momentarily.

_What the hell was Dr. Lecter_ _doing?!_

An attempt to dislodge himself resulted in another painful…_pinch?_

_What the fuck was the bastard doing to him!_

A third sensation, not unlike fingernails trapping a substantial amount of flesh, caused an alarming sense of clarity.

_Dr. Lecter wasn't pinching him._

_He was biting him._

A strangled cry of bewilderment and anger tore from Will's throat. He desperately tried propelling himself forward on his elbows. The pain increased. He surged forward a second time. Too much momentum sent his elbows out from under him, sending him crashing flat onto the hard surface.

Both teeth and hands clamped down again.

Will froze, something clicking in his brain. Despite himself, Will stilled his body for a few moments.

Another bite.

However this one was different. Experimental.

Will finally understood. He began to shake as pure, numbing fear surged through his synapses.

The doctor would not be satisfied with temporary acquiescence or fleeting obedience masquerading as compliance. Those things did not have a place in this room.

Those things did not have a _chance _in this room.

Full, complete submission was what Dr. Lecter wanted from William Graham.

Will made a decision.

He was not going to give something so precious, his control and his submission

… to _him_.

Not without a fight.

Not without wringing every bit of value and _entertainment _from it until it resembled a lifeless, still, useless thing that the doctor wouldn't see as worth his time, his effort, his cruelty.

Will slowly lowered his head so his forehead just skimmed the table, stretching the expanse of his neck forward. With bated breath he waited for Dr. Lecter's reaction.

Hannibal did not relinquish the hold he had on Will's splenius capitis. He was not foolish enough to think this submission was nothing but heartfelt. Dear Will was trying to trick him. Hannibal internally nodded his approval.

_Sporting boy_.

He slowly unclenched his teeth and sucked the tender patch of flesh into his mouth, gently sucking and soothing the area. He smiled softly when he heard a groan so quiet he would have missed it had he not been listening for it.

The good doctor rose a few inches and observed his work. The area was a deep red, almost purple. His eyes rolled back a little, imagining the blend of colors the bite would acquire over the next few days.

Will stretched his neck a little to the left and right. Hannibal smirked.


	11. But Only One Can Win

Author's Note: Hello! This chapter would have been up yesterday but our little area lost power or something and my internet gallantly refused to not work lol. Not a whole lot happens in this chapter but the tension rises a little more. It's a battle of the wills lol I hope you enjoy. Happy reading!

Chapter Eleven: …But Only One Can Win

Blowing gently on the bruised area Hannibal spoke,

"Am I improving your understanding of our situation, William?"

Will grit his teeth, shaking with anger.

"It's Will. As for understanding the situation, I have a healthy understanding that you are a bastard."

Silence.

"Oh I'm sorry Doctor, is that not the aspect of our situation you were referring to?"

Hannibal's member hardened. His boy did not know when to quit.

Hannibal rounded the table and stood in front of Will. The curly haired male refused to look upwards. The doctor rested both hands on the table, enclosing Will's body between them.

"You are failing to understand your…role here William."

Will opened his eyes but firmly kept his gaze on the white surface beneath him.

_Let me ease your dilemma Will._

Hannibal leaned down a few inches, disturbing Will's space. The younger man steeled himself and forced himself to meet Dr. Lecter's stare.

Seconds passed, neither man saying a word, both men seemingly not taking a breath.

Will was desperately hoping the doctor would look away soon, his courage was crumbling and crumbling fast.

Hannibal however had no intention of doing such a thing. The minute reconstruction and collapsing of furrowed brows told the older man what he needed to know: Will's nerves were swiftly leaving him.

A few more seconds…

_Good boy._

Will's eyes darted downwards, like the last few seconds of staring into the sun. Hannibal smiled.

"Your stubbornness and disobedience is bringing your own distress upon you, William."

Will balked at the statement.

"You bit me, Doctor. You kept me here against my will. "

Will did not mention the doctor forcibly pinning him. Those words would not hit the air if he could help it. He went on,

"How do you _expect_ me to react?"

"However you see fit."

"Alright, I'll alert the authorities."

Dr. Lecter smiled.

_No you will not._

_No you __**cannot**__._

Will's gut churned with fear and frustration. No, the doctor had not forgotten about his earlier threat. Alright, fine.

He needed to get out of there, and quickly. He needed time to come up with an idea, any idea, on how to expose the doctor.

Will pointedly glance at the clock. 1:45. He had until the end of the hour, right?

"You don't have much room to talk about rudeness. You have allowed your impulses to disrupt my…massage several times during the hour."

Hannibal smirked slightly at Will's spiteful tone.

Not one to call the kettle black, he inclined his head slightly and repositioned himself behind his patient.

"William, you are absolutely right. So much so, I will not charge you for your appointment, which ends at two fifteen, in case you were wondering."

_Damnit!_

Will was going to be stuck in the room another half an hour with this man. Oh god.

Okay, he could do this. He could last a half hour, right?

Will settled himself back onto his folded hands and glanced back at Dr. Lecter.

_Get on with it._


	12. A Change of Pace

Author's Note: I know this is a measly little update but I wanted to move the story along a little more. I want Hannibal to be hurting Will simply because he enjoys it. He wants to see what kind of physiological and psychological reactions he can get out of Will. That will become very apparent in Will's second appointment. Believe me, things will get kind of uncomfortable with the dialogue in one of the next chapters. Enjoy readers!

Chapter Twelve: A Change of Pace

The doctor smiled ruefully. Dear Will was trying to assume some control. Amusing, but ultimately futile. Thirty minutes might remain but Hannibal decided how long those minutes felt. Would they be their designated eighteen-hundred seconds or much longer?

Will was not the one to decided, but Hannibal would indulge his influence if it made him feel better.

Without warning, Hannibal slide his hands around Will's slender hips, firmly bracketing the flesh and muscle.

Will, much to his dismay, couldn't help but flinch. At the moment he couldn't imagine a more uncomfortable feeling than fingers curling around his hips, stomach. Thankfully, no lower.

The doctor began to firmly but gently rub circles into his thoracolumbar fascia, the sides of his lower back. Gentle, insistent pressure coaxed painful groans out of his patient.

_See? I am not hurting you yet, Will._

Will tensed as Hannibal moved his fingers lower to the internal oblique muscle. He desperately wanted to tell the doctor to hurry it up but that would have been pointless. Thirty minutes was thirty minutes. He wasn't leaving a second sooner.

Hannibal sensed Will's wandering thoughts and just to be a bastard, dug his fingers firmly into the muscle. Will hissed and whipped his head toward the doctor,

"I swear to god if you don't stop being such a-"

Hannibal smirked like the cat dissecting a canary, and not missing a beat, fully gripped Will's hips and _squeezed_.

Hard.

Poor Will arched his back in pain, slamming his eyes shut.

Hannibal increased the pressure.

"It just occurred to me, William."

Will glared behind closed eyelids.

"It is not overly important to me if you learn respect and obedience. I almost hope those two concepts remain out of your grasp."

Hannibal released the pressure and went back to gentle, soothing brushes.

"Can you guess why William?"


	13. Stepping Stone

Author's Note: Hey everyone! Sorry for the delay but homework got homework-y and I was kind of unsure how to continue from the last chapter. Anywho hope you enjoy the update. Happy reading!

Chapter Thirteen

Will wanted to claw the man's eyes out. Hannibal cocked his head slightly, choosing his words carefully.

"I much prefer you the way you are".

Will clenched his eyes shut tightly.

_Fuckyoufuckyoufuckyou!_

The younger man's confusion was heady. Why would Dr. Lecter not want him to change? To not show the utmost respect and obedience?

Unless Will was missing something.

Okay, the bastard wants his submission and by extension obedience and respect. However, he does not want Will to change.

_What?_

Will's brow furrowed as he thought, which was made more difficult with the doctor's fingers against his lower back.

_To stay as he presently is and still submit to the bastard (which he would not), submission and respect would have to come from what he was feeling already. _

_Confusion?_

_Anger?_

Will stifled a whimper.

_Fear?_

Shaking his head sharply, he tried dispelling those thoughts from his brain.

Hannibal studied Will's posture. Flat against the table, the man's forehead was pressed firmly against the back of his hands. He was no doubt grasping for Hannibal's meaning. It was delicious to witness.

Hannibal continued to knead Will's lower back and got a wicked idea. He moved his fingers to the sides of Will's black boxers and began to gently lower them.

Will's head snapped up and his eyes snapped open. He whipped his head to the side, eyes lowered to the ground.

"Just what the hell do you think you're doing?"

Hannibal smiled, like an adult asked an obvious question by a child.

"I merely wish to work on your lower regions, Will. Is that a problem?"

_The fucker damn well knew that was a problem_, Will thought hotly.

"I'd rather you not go anywhere near my lower regions, thank you very much".

Hannibal's wolfish grin showed his amusement. His steady, reassuring tone did not.

"Will, you are not letting me do my job properly. I want to make you feel good."

"I want you to jump off a cliff. I guess both of us are out of luck now aren't we?"

_One of us is William._

He continued to lower the boxers until the top few inches of Will's ass was revealed. Hannibal's breathe caught slightly at the sight. Soft peach and pink tones mixed together in a supple, inviting picture.

The good doctor wasted no time in setting his right thumb against the center of Will's thoracolumbar fascia.

He skimmed the pad of his thumb just over the surface. A low growl could be heard from the younger man.

Hannibal rubbed in firm circles and a hitch in breath encouraged him to continue.

He placed his thumbs side by side and alternated between firm circles and branching outwards to the right and left side, following the contours of rounded buttocks.

A quite whimper spurred Hannibal on still. He moved his thumbs down a little lower in the shallow valley.

Will couldn't contain himself.

"Bastard".

Hannibal simply smiled. Pressing both thumbs downward, Hannibal gracefully bracketed Will's firm hips in the cradle of his long fingers.

He pressed both thumbs down even more and pulled the fingers encasing Will's lower external obliques in an upward direction.

Will bit off a shout and couldn't help but arch his hips upward with the motion, in an attempt to ease the opposing pressures.

Hannibal stabilized the pressure, holding Will's body in position for long seconds. Leaning downwards, he spoke

"Will, I can either heal you, or hurt you. Permanently. Which do you prefer?"

A harsh keen was all Hannibal received. Pressing his thumbs in a little further, he continued to bait the younger male.

"Answer me Will."

"Go to hell!"

Hannibal _tsked_ audibly, all the while quite enjoying the man's defiance.

In a fluid motion, he moved the fingers around the hips in a sharp upwards motion, painfully higher than they had been.

Will couldn't help the sob that tore from him. The tension in his muscles was unbearable.

His lower body curved inwards, throbbing with pain. He didn't want to give the other man the satisfaction, but he had to say something or Dr. Lecter could, and would, seriously harm him.

"I want you to-"

Will stopped short, the words dying in his throat. He couldn't say them. The request seemed like rolling over, baring his soft underside for this animal.

Hannibal again increased the dual pressures and Will couldn't help the words tumbling out of him.

"H-elp me, I wa-ant you to help me feel..ahh b-better".

Hannibal closed his eyes, savoring the victory. A small stepping stone, but he was a patient man.

He gently released his hold on Will's body and kneaded the throbbing areas. Injecting smugness into every word, Hannibal spoke pointedly.

"That was not so difficult, was it William?"


	14. A Costly Reprieve

Author's Note: This was so much fun to write because Will gets a little crafty. However, don't think that isn't going to cost him lol. Oh it will. Enjoy and have a wonderful day!

Chapter Fourteen: A Costly Reprieve

Will had a reply on the tip of his tongue when a soft knock was heard. His head turned in surprise toward the door, mouth open slightly in confusion.

Hannibal, like always, maintained his composure. However, his body momentarily retained the stiffness of a statue, eyes narrowed dangerously.

About three months ago, the office administrator, well former administrator Franklyn Froidevaux, had taken it upon himself to barge in quite uninvited while Hannibal was with another patient.

Franklin Froidevaux was, to Hannibal and everyone around him, considered to be a nuisance. The man was a neurotic and the only peace of mind he was afforded came in the form of Bartholomew, his cat.

Hannibal for his part would gladly have cut short the poor beast's life for his own amusement had he not had a shrewd feeling he would have had to hear about it from Franklyn every day thereafter.

Unfortunately, the love, or in Dr. Lecter's words "debilitating and unhealthy dependency" Franklin felt for his beloved Bartholomew was decidedly one-sided (embarrassingly so, really).

Midmorning of that day three months ago found Theresa Lawrence, a sweet twenty four year old neighbor of Franklyn, calling him at the office to inform him Bartholomew had escaped.

Next thing Hannibal knew, a hysterical Franklyn was adequately ruining the relaxed atmosphere of his latest appointment, all the while blubbering about how "poor Mew-Mew was out in the world, all alone with no one to hug him".

The patient looked from Hannibal to Franklyn in shock and slight amusement while the good doctor wanted to separate Franklyn and his vocal chords right at that moment.

Instead, he apologetically excused himself for a moment and took the crying man by the upper arm, not the sleeve he could see wet splotches of tears and snot there, and escorted him out to the hall.

In softened tones the doctor depleted the reserves of his utmost patience and politeness in telling Franklyn to take the rest of the day off to search for his cat ("my sweetie pie!" Franklyn helpfully interjected). Thankfully, the man did just that.

A week later, Franklyn Froidevaux was found in a back alley with his vocal chords removed and six stray cats consuming the bulk of any forensic evidence along with Franklyn.

Hannibal internally smiled at the memory of that particular news report but now the knocking was quite urgent. He took a few steps toward the door before turning back to Will for a moment.

"William, are you going to behave yourself and refrain from saying something you should not? Will glared at a point over the doctor's left shoulder, jaw set on pins. Hannibal could practically see the wheels turning in his boy's head. Amusing.

Will wanted very badly to appeal to whoever was behind that door for help, but the man had been clever.

He had cut off access to anyone who could possibly help him.

The cops or Jack were obvious, but the adminstrator was the one person Will would see first when leaving the building.

She, well technically her son, was whom Dr. Lecter had threatened. A dangerously intelligent move which effectively backed Will into a corner.

That thought cemented itself and Hannibal saw with clarity the second that happened. Smirking, he turned back and schooled his expression to polite confusion. He opened the door, revealing Charlotte.

Hannibal did not get a word out before an apology tumbled from Charlotte's lips.

"Hannibal, I am so sorry for interrupting you like this but there's an emergency with my son".

Hannibal feigned concern.

"I am sorry to hear that Charlotte. Is there something I can do to help?"

"I hate to ask you to cut your appointment short but could you take calls until I get back?"

Hannibal made to respond when Will spoke first.

"Actually, Ms. um Charlotte? I was just telling Dr. Lecter I was starting to feel a little sick. It might be better if I go home now".

Hannibal turned his head to look back at Will, hiding his expression from the woman in front of him. A benign smile with a hint of teeth.

Will knew he had just made a mistake. A grave one, and the doctor would not let it slide by.

Anger warring with amusement and approval made Hannibal's eyes bright but his tone was level. Eyeing the woman again Hannibal spoke kindly.

"Yes, Will has begun to feel a little under the weather. I will tend to him and then send him on his way. Do not worry. I will take care of business here".

Charlotte thanked the man profusely and retreated back down the hall. Hannibal and Will heard the rustling of a coat and quick footsteps to the door. A minute later an engine was heard exiting the lot.

Silence reigned in the room.


	15. Until Next Time

Author's Note: Hey there readers! Here is another update because I love spoiling you guys. I can't believe it took me fifteen freaking chapters to get Will to and out of the therapists' office (I said I wanted to flesh out details for practice but fifteen chapters? Good lord lol). Anywho, Will gets a few days break from Hannibal but Hannibal is going to be in Jack's ear purely to screw with Will and for his own benefit. Why? This equation Hannibal = Bastard lol. Alright, hope this brightens up your day and..*cricket sounds* you've stopped reading haven't you? Hmph fine lol. ENJOY!

Hannibal gently closed the door, not turning around immediately. He purposefully kept his posture relaxed, his breathing even.

Internally, disappointment mixed with sadistic amusement and pleasurable approval clawed to their appropriate pedestals.

Will was playing their game, whether he wanted to or not. And now, now the man was playing whether he knew it or not.

Defiance was, in crude terms, an enormous turn on for Hannibal. Will had just provided a delicious sample of that.

How considerate. Hannibal would have to reward the younger man in his own way.

He turned to face Will and smiled ruefully.

"That was quick thinking Will. I did not think you would show such good sportsmanship".

Will could not believe his ears, but Dr. Lecter's choice of words let him know exactly how he felt about the situation. He lifted himself onto his elbows, staring at a point over the doctor's left shoulder.

"This is not a game! I am not going to be your play thing".

Hannibal's eyes darken.

"Those are usually the first words out of my play thing's mouths, you know".

Hannibal was pleased to note if Will glared any harder, he would give himself a headache. Ah well, just something else he could relieve Will of.

The older man eyed Will as he started to raise himself off the table. How much would he let the good doctor see?

Will stopped himself as if he could hear Hannibal's line of thinking. Hannibal decided to humor the man for now.

He walked over to the compartments and retrieved Will's clothing. He then walked to the counter which was in Will's eyesight and set the clothes down.

Turning back he smirked, eyebrow raised. His good will ended there.

The younger man was getting off that table or he was walking out in his underwear. The latter suited Hannibal just fine, although the chances of his luck being that good were awfully slim.

Will ground his teeth. Not wanting to give the man the satisfaction while simultaneously wishing to get the hell out of the room, he steeled himself.

Turning on his side, Will sat up making sure the blanket covered his lower region until the last possible moment.

That moment came when he gingerly set his feet on the floor. Squeezing his eyes shut, he stood up to his full height and placed the blanket on the table behind him.

The universe must have been enjoying his situation along with the doctor, because the blanket slipped off to the floor, behind him and to his right. Not a second after it hit the floor Hannibal was kneeling gracefully to retrieve it.

Small fistfuls of fear blossomed in Will's gut as Hannibal slowly took in the sight of Will starting from his calves…to his thighs…up his torso…up his neck…to his face.

A dirty, full blown smirk stretched itself across a composition of cheekbones and red kissing flesh.

Will tried desperately to look anywhere but at the man at his feet. It was painfully difficult but his eyes settled finally on the doctor's forehead.

Hannibal was near drunk with Will's uneasiness. He smoothly raised himself to his full height, quite enjoying the fact Will was just a few inches shorter than him. He was taller of course but an almost physical equal did not bother him in the slightest.

Hannibal reached behind Will to place the blanket back on the table and Will flinched, absolutely hating the proximity between them.

_Well that's too bad._

Hannibal was going to ensure they were so close Will would not know where Hannibal began and Will ended.

The profiler nearly ran into the counter in his haste to distance himself from the doctor. While he fumbled for his shirt, Hannibal let his eyes roam. Muscles in his boy's upper back performed an intoxicating skeletal dance.

The smooth expanse made Hannibal want to run his tongue in a wet trail from nape to rump. And the bruises beginning to form…

A groan burned hot in his Adam's apple, eagerly waiting for release. He tampered it down for now.

By then, Will's pants were skimming his thighs before coming to rest on his hips. Hurried motions tucked shirt tails in and stuffed shoes onto feet. Will turned around, squinting.

Hannibal gingerly held Will's glasses. Will frowned and reached up to snatch the lenses. The doctor let him and he turned around in a huff, obviously intending to leave without a word.

"William?"

Will stiffened, jerkily turning halfway looking at the floor.

"We need to schedule another appointment. I do not think Jack's concerns about your well-being will be appeased with one measly meeting, no?"

Will wanted badly to kick the man but he wasn't wrong. He did not keep the sarcasm from his voice.

"Alright Dr. When's the next time you would like to assault me?"

Hannibal chuckled softly.

"How does next Friday sound? 3:00?"

Will thought it over. He did not have classes on Friday so that day was as good as any, well as good as any to be…whatever the hell had transpired.

"Fine".

Will turned and opened the door with a little more force than what was probably necessary. The office was empty. He hurried through the front door and out to the parking lot.

He did not look back at the building once, not while buckling up or leaving the lot. Friday would come soon enough.


End file.
